


Intermediate Divergence: Parallels

by PseudoLeigha



Series: The Reasons Mary Potter Still Isn't Done (Works in Progress) [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Lily Evans Potter, First in a trilogy, Harry has a decent childhood, Lily and Petunia are cousins, Lily is a cheating cheater who cheats, Really different in others., Severitus, Somewhat more like the canon Sev&Lily in some ways..., halfblood!Lily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 12:49:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoLeigha/pseuds/PseudoLeigha
Summary: This story diverges from the Mary Potter 'Canon' Timeline in the middle of the story 'An Intermediate Beginning' and is my long-delayed contribution to the collection of responses to Severitus' Challenge. Non-Chronological Narration! Requited Sev/Lily, secondary Jily. Part one of a Severitus trilogy. This story runs from pre-Hogwarts through the end of Harry's second year, focusing on how the situation came about, and Snape's thoughts about it all.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who doesn't know, the rules of the Challenge are:
> 
> 1\. Severus Snape must be revealed to be Harry's father
> 
> 2\. Remus Lupin must be at Hogwarts
> 
> 3\. Harry must undergo some progressive physical change starting on his birthday. No *tada!* and suddenly he looks like Snape, at first anyway.
> 
> 4\. The story must be based mostly around Harry and Snape
> 
> Quite honestly, the last one is a bit iffy: this is more like two interconnected stories, one mostly about Lily and Severus, and one about Severus and Harry, because if you asked Severus, he would say that his life has revolved around Lily Evans since the day he realized she was a witch.
> 
> The Severus and Lily story depicts a world and a war that is somewhat different from both the Harry Potter and Mary Potter canon backstories. Taking the Mary Potter story 'An Intermediate Beginning' as a starting point, Lily was removed from her aunt and uncle's home after her mother was admitted to St. Mungo's, and instead fostered by one of her godmothers, a muggleborn witch who married into the predominantly pureblood Carmichael family. She was returned to the Evanses at the age of eight, when her foster-parents died in an early Death Eater attack. In the meanwhile, however, the Evanses decided to try for another child, and ended up with twins. Lily knows more about magical culture than Sev to start out, and more about her history than in Mary Potter – specifically, the names of her real parents, and the fact that she is not a muggleborn. She and Sev take a somewhat different path in their relationship and the war, which has consequences for their son when their decisions and machinations begin to come to light.
> 
> There are already cut scenes for this story, because I decided to try to re-organize the chapter structure to emphasize the parallels between Harry and Severus' lives after already having written several scenes from Lily's POV.

**The Beginning**

**Lily – July, 1980**

"Are you sure about this, Lily Irene?"

Lily, physically and emotionally exhausted from her labor, but still only half-done with the night's work, looked up from the newborn infant cradled in her arms to frown at her friend. "You know I am."

Pandora Sage-Willow sighed deeply, as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders. "You know I don't judge you for your choices Lily Irene," ("Which _is_ why we're friends," Lily inserted.) "but that doesn't mean I _approve_ , especially of this."

"So calling the Dark to save Longbottom is fine, and you won't blame me for using necromancy or asking the Youthful Power to kill in battle, but you draw the line at a ritual to disguise my son?"

"The _why_ matters, and you know it! To save a life – or many lives – is one thing! But this… this you would do simply to hide your broken vows from your husband!"

"No, I wouldn't," the new mother snapped reflexively. Her friend gave her a look which said as clearly as any words that she was not believed. "Well, okay, I might. I daresay James wouldn't be too pleased with me if he knew, but I'm _not_ , and you know it!"

She turned back to the babe, now suckling. "He's already in so much danger, just by virtue of being my son – can you imagine how much worse it would be if they knew who sired him? I – James would forgive me, I think, in the end – and even if he didn't, I can take care of myself. But how do you think he would react if he found out that he had been protecting a cuckoo-child? Do you think he would allow Severus Snape's bastard to live under his roof? Sev can't take care of a child in his circumstances – he can barely pass messages without drawing undue suspicion. That Fucker would kill both of them in an instant! Or worse, give him to Bellatrix!

"And," she reminded her friend irritably (for they had already discussed Pandora's reservations more than once), "how do you think Dumbledore and the rest of the Order would react if they found out that I'd 'been having an affair' with a Death Eater? Never mind that I've been with Sev longer than Jamie. _You_ know he's on my side, but no one else does! No one would believe it! They'd lock me up or kick me out for fraternizing with the Enemy. And how many more lives would be lost, that might have been saved on Sev's information? I like James – we're friends and we've fought together and if it weren't for him, well… this little one probably wouldn't be here. He loves me, and I am… at least rather fond of him. But my marriage vows are really the _least_ of my concern, here.

"So _yes_ , I'm _sure_ ," she concluded, glaring at the older witch. She could tell by the resigned expression on Pandora's normally serene features that she had won. "And we need to do it before the nurse comes to, so hurry up!" The muggle nurse who had been assigned to attend the post-partum Lily had been put to sleep in the next bed, to give them time to execute this ritual in peace, before James was informed of the birth of 'his' son. They really didn't have time for this.

"Very well," Pandora finally acquiesced, fishing a white crayon from her pocket. She began to sketch a ritual diagram on the surface of a nearby table. "You have the essence of Potter?" she asked, cool efficiency belying her reservations.

Lily summoned the potion-vial, containing a shimmering, opalescent mist (alchemically extracted from a sample of her husband's blood), from the bag containing the clothes in which she had arrived to the hospital, and handed it over.

"And you know the child must be named before the ritual can be put into effect," Pandora reminded her.

Lily nodded. As firmly and solemnly as she could, she said, "I name you, my son, Seth Alexander Evans. Your mother is Lily Evans, and your father is Severus Snape. Know these names, for they are yours, given in love and by right of blood. Seth Alexander Evans, my son, be named," she repeated, laying a kiss upon the sleeping boy's brow. An intangible gust of magic gathered, swirled, and departed, leaving the baby's slightly sallow skin glowing faintly for a moment. "As it is witnessed by magic, so mote it be." The glow faded.

Pandora echoed the sealing phrase, then nodded. "Welcome to the world, Seth," she said lightly, then held out her hands for the swaddled bundle.

His mother passed him over slightly reluctantly, and she laid him on the table, in the center of the diagram. He woke with a dissatisfied cry.

"There, now, little one," the older witch cooed, cupping his cheek in her hand as Lily struggled to rise from the bed, still only an hour out of labor, even with liberal use of potions and healing spells to help her recover more quickly than the average muggle.

"Dora! You can't just lay him on the _table_ ," she objected, making her way to the two of them.

"Relax, Lily Irene! I put a cushioning charm on it," Pandora rolled her eyes, steadying her friend. "And besides, a little discomfort will be the least of his concern in a moment."

"Oh, shut up, Dora," Lily glared, before turning her attention to the babe. "For what it's worth, Seth," she said softly, "I'm sorry."

And then she began a slow Armenian chant, calling upon the Deceptive Power to steal her own son's birthright, sacrificing his name and his future as Seth Evans to usurp the Potter line, to let him appear, in every way, to be the trueborn son of James Charlus Potter.

At the appropriate moment, Pandora tipped the vial carefully to his lips, and he swallowed reflexively.

The sense of magic in the air grew heavier and more oppressive as they repeated the process again, and then a third time.

_"Verts'rek' ir anuny, verts'nel ir apagan, dzevavorel kavi dzevavorel t'arm deghahat. Seth Alexander Evans voch' aveli, hima meky yntanik'i het, vori eut'yuny, na verts'rel!"_

The baby, no longer Seth, squirmed and screamed, but his mother was merciless, and she completed the ritual, the magic centering on him and tethering itself to him before she lifted him in her arms to soothe him.

"Hush, my darling boy," she whispered, collapsing back into the bed. "Hush now. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, baby. But it's going to be okay, now. It's going to be okay."


	2. Fosterling

**Now: The Boy Who Lived**

**Violet – November, 1981**

The phone rang shrilly, startling nineteen-year-old Violet Evans into wakefulness.

"Vi! Phone!" her flatmate called, moments later.

 _Who the bloody hell calls at_ (she peered blearily at her bedside clock, the alarm not set to ring for another half-hour) _half-past six in the morning!? This had better be important,_ she thought, padding barefoot into the kitchenette, yawning.

"Morning, Karen." Karen glared at her silently and held out the phone before returning to her porridge. Her flatmate was _not_ a morning person, by any stretch of the imagination. "Violet Evans," she identified herself. "May I ask who's calling?"

"Violet? Vi? Is that you? Oh, thank God!"

"T-Tuney?" Violet hadn't heard her older sister sound so hysterical since the day they had found out magic was real.

"Vi – you need to come over. I – I need you to come over today. I need to talk to you."

"Petunia? What's wrong?"

"I-I'll explain when you get here!"

"Tuney, I have to be at work in an hour and a half. Rodgers will fire me if I'm late again." Not that it would be _that_ much of a sacrifice to lose her typing position, except she did rather need the money. "Just tell me what's going on!"

"Call in sick! It's important!"

"But –"

"I'm sending Vernon to pick you up. He'll be there in an hour."

"But, Tuney –"

The dial tone cut her off. _Damn it, Petunia!_

…

By eight, instead of sitting at her desk at the Law Offices of Dean and Wilson, she was sitting at Petunia's kitchen table, trying not to break down into hysterics herself.

Lily was dead.

Lily was dead, and some _bastard_ of a wizard had just dropped her godson off on Petunia's doorstep like a foundling child in some old story.

Petunia had let her read the note that had been wrapped up in his blankets:

_My Dear Vernon and Petunia,_

_It is my sincerest regret to inform you that your cousin, Lily Potter, and her husband James, were killed last night. I understand that you have not been in communication with the Potters for some time. Lily told me that they had distanced themselves to try to protect you. I don't know how much she told you._

_You may know that there is a war going on in Magical Britain. The forces of light and order wish to maintain the current status quo, protecting and welcoming muggleborn witches and wizards, such as your late aunt Matilde Harrison, into our society, while the insurgents value blood purity and see muggleborns as inferior. Their leader, who calls himself Voldemort, wishes to kill off or exile all muggleborns and has been carrying out a terrorism campaign against our government to that effect._

_The terrorist Voldemort killed Lily and James personally. Lily enacted a very old, very strong protection on her son as she was killed, essentially sacrificing herself to save the child. It worked. When Voldemort tried to kill Harry, his curse was reflected upon himself, and his body was destroyed. We do not yet know if he is dead, but for now he is defeated._

_Unfortunately, he had many followers, and dozens of them are still on the loose and looking for revenge. To protect young Harry, as well as your family, I have enacted wards, based on the protection Lily left her child and your family connection. He must come live with you to ensure that these wards protect you all._

_If you should need to contact me, a letter sent to the following address will find me:_

_Hogwarts, Office of the Headmaster_

_c/o John Proctor_

_11 Purley Ln_

_South Croydon_

_Greater London_

_My condolences,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

"I – I can't _believe_ this! Li – Lily… It – We hadn't talked in months, but she – she said she was just busy, with her research work, and Harry, and – and –" she stuttered.

Surprisingly, it was not Petunia, but Vernon who responded.

"S-so it's true, then? This – this wizard rubbish?" he glared impotently at the letter, perhaps understandably more preoccupied by the revelation that his wife was related to a witch than that a girl he had met only a handful of times (and whom he hadn't particularly liked) was dead.

Violet nodded, thinking of the first time she had seen her cousin do magic, making a rose bloom for her on command. Vernon didn't look much like he believed her. She wished she had something she could show – before she even finished the thought, she realized that she did. It was the work of a moment to dig the moving picture out of her wallet – little Harry playing with a toy broom, zipping through the air a foot off the ground. She passed it to the big man without a word. His blustery face went a sort of greyish color in the space of a few seconds, and he had to sit down rather quickly.

"You have to take him, Vi," Petunia insisted. "You're his _godmother_. Lily wanted you to have him, if anything happened to her."

"I – I – Of course I'll take him – but… it's just so _sudden_. And work, and oh, good Lord – I'll have to talk to Karen. And what about the – the funeral? Is this – did he _really_ just… just leave you a _letter?_ "

"H-how is this even possible?" Vernon was still staring at the picture, as though it might explode.

" _Magic_ , Vernon!" Petunia snapped, thumping a decanter and a trio of glasses down on the table. "There is no _how_ or _why_. And yes! That's all we know. Do you… still keep in contact with any of… _that_ lot?" she asked rather hesitantly.

Violet shook her head. Out of the few wizards she had met, none had been much for taking up a correspondence with the curious little cousin of their friend. Severus Snape would probably be the most likely to respond if she were to write him, but she didn't know where he was living, or how to get a message to him without one of those messenger-owls the wizards used. "I guess I could write this Dumbledore character," she suggested, trying very hard to focus on logistics.

 _Harry needs you to keep it together_ , she reminded herself. _Channel Lily. You can break down later, when all the adult business is sorted._

"What's… what's this bit about us being in danger, Pet?" Vernon asked. He had snatched the letter back while Vi was thinking of whom she might contact in the magical world, and was pouring over it desperately, as though if he read it enough times, the world might start to make sense again.

"Are there… papers, and things? A birth certificate?" Violet asked.

Petunia made an inarticulate noise of frustration. "I don't know, and _no_ , there aren't. I don't even know if he was born in a hospital! Those freaks might have had a – a _midwife_ or something!"

"Tuney!"

"Well, _sorry_ , Vi, but they _were_!"

"No, they _weren't_. Just because you didn't like them –"

"' _curse reflected… body was destroyed. We do not yet know if he is dead…'"_ Vernon muttered, cutting her off. "How can they _not know_ if he was _dead_?! If he hasn't got a body, he's got to be dead, hasn't he?!"

Dudley started crying at his father's loud, angry tone, waking Harry, who immediately asked for his mum, which nearly made Violet start crying as well.

"I'm sorry, Harry, baby… I'm sorry, your parents are gone. They're not coming back. I'm so, so sorry," she whispered, rocking him gently.

"Mum! Mum! Mum! Wa' mum!"

"No, Harry, no mum. No mum."

"What about the Carmichaels?" Petunia asked, soothing her son by shoving a binky into his mouth before doing the same to Harry.

Violet snapped at her – given the choice, she would indulge anger over grief. "If you've any idea how to get in touch with them, feel free to tell me!"

There was a knock on the door, and a young man's voice called into the house: "Hello? Pet? Dursley?"

"In the dining room, Matt!" Petunia called.

Violet glared at her, though she transferred the expression to her twin as soon as he showed his face in the doorway. They had not spoken in months: Petunia had blamed Lily and magic for their parents' deaths; Violet had blamed the people who actually killed them. Matt had sided with Petunia, and was now even more violently outspoken against magic than their older sister.

"Wotcher, 'Tunia, Dursley. What's o – _Vi_?" he cut himself off.

"Lily's dead," she told him bluntly, explaining her presence and the reason he had been called all at once.

He ran a hand through his hair, pain in his eyes, though he clearly didn't want to admit that he cared. "Blimey." He sat down next to Vernon and reached across the table to snag his twin's untouched drink, downing it in one. "How?"

"Show him the letter, Vernon!" Petunia ordered her husband.

There was a relative silence as he read, the only sound the boys' occasional whimper or babble, quickly hushed.

"So this is… Harry, then?" he asked, slowly.

The women nodded. "Found him on the doorstep this morning," Petunia added.

Matt's expression became resolute. "You have to get rid of him."

"Matthew Fredrick Evans! I am _not_ going to 'get rid of' my godson!" Her arms wrapped around him reflexively, even more tightly. He whimpered.

"You don't know what they can do, Vi! They can track things, people! He'll lead them right to your door! They'll kill you too if you keep him!"

"They will _not_! The letter says there's a ward – protection!"

"Vi! Listen to reason, would you?"

"Shut the bloody hell up, the both of you!" Vernon roared. The babies were crying again.

Petunia, who had obviously been trying to get their attention said, "Thank you, dear. We need to get in touch with one of the f – _them_. We need more information, as fast as possible. Vi, sit down." She hadn't realized that she was on her feet and two steps toward the door until her sister spoke. She blushed, but did as she was told. "Mattie, do you have any… contacts? Anyone we could…?"

He shook his head, but said, "This Proctor, in Croydon, he'd have to be one of _them_ , to pass on letters. My two pence'd be to track him down, make him lead you to the other freaks if you want to talk to them so bad. You should just chuck the kid in an orphanage or something, though. I mean – can they even do this? Is it _legal_ to drop a kid off without any papers or anything? Do you even know it's him?"

"Of _course_ it's him!" Violet snapped. "Look at his eyes!"

"They can change how things look, Vi!"

"Oh come off it, you paranoid sod!"

" _Children_ ," Petunia said warningly, in a tone that made her sound so much like their mother that Violet did a double-take. Both twins shut up.

"So what?" Vernon asked. "We just… go knock on this bloke's front door, and ask him if he's a… a _wizard_?"

"Got a better idea?" Matt asked after a moment.

They had to admit, they didn't.

…

Twelve hours, a drive up to Croydon, several 'flue calls', and a trip to the magical bank later, Violet's head was spinning. The old wizard they had talked to – that Albus Dumbledore, who had written the letter – he had been rather upset with Petunia and Vernon for not simply following his instructions to take in the child. Matt had been paranoid about them being forced to do so, or having their memories altered, though the wizard had insisted that he would never do such a thing to a 'muggle'. Violet had demanded that the wizards give her a copy of whatever papers Harry had – a birth certificate, hopefully, or at least _something_ that she could show the government to prove that she had a right to the child – and the wizard had ordered Proctor – the one who owned the house – to take them to Gringott's (a bank of sorts) to see whether Lily had kept a copy of the papers in her vault. The house, apparently, had been largely destroyed, and what was left was a sealed crime scene.

Violet had started crying at the reminder that Lily was dead, and when they (Proctor, Petunia, Vernon, Matt, her, and Harry, but not Dudley, who had been left safely in the care of the Dursleys' neighbor) had finally reached the bank, Vernon had nearly had a heart attack when faced with its employees – _goblins_.

He and Petunia had left very quickly, demanding that Proctor take them back to the normal world. Matt stayed to guard Violet against the creatures, though all he really did was make a huge fuss when they demanded a drop of blood from both Harry and herself to verify that they were who they said they were, and authorize access to Lily's vault. He made a show (when they were done) of burning the scraps of bloodied parchment with his pocket lighter so that they couldn't do anything else with it. What 'anything else' might have been, Violet had no idea, but the goblins seemed vaguely amused by his paranoia, rather than offended, so she didn't object.

After what seemed like an awfully long wait, the creatures delivered a heavy, old-fashioned folder containing, among other things, a _much_ longer and more informative letter to Violet – practically a novella, at forty-eight hand-written pages – and Harry (Henry James) Potter's papers, both the ones she would have expected and a few obviously magical ones she wouldn't have known to look for. The letter started with: ' _If you're reading this, Vi, then I am dead, and Harry has been placed in your care. There are a few things you will need to know, about the war and about my world, which I have never been at liberty to discuss…'_ and ended with ' _I'm sorry to have to ask this of you, and I cannot, and will never be able to thank you enough for agreeing to do it. All my love to you and Harry – Lily'_

The folder also contained a deed and a key to a fully-furnished three-bedroom house in Kensington, and a very fancy-looking document which apparently authorized Harry's guardian a monthly allowance from the Potter Trust Vault to take care of the boy. Violet carefully shuffled _that_ to the bottom of the pile. She understood that the Potters had had money, and that James had wanted his son taken care of, as much as Lily had, but she wasn't in a good state to think about the fact that that allowance was more than her salary at the moment. And they had _given her a bloody house_. Well, Harry, technically, but _still_!

The only thing was, she would have to move in there immediately, according to the letter. The house was protected – warded, Lily said – against tracking spells (apparently Matt hadn't been paranoid about those) and scrying, and all manner of other wizardly nonsense that Violet hadn't understood. The only wizard who ought to be able to find her there was Severus Snape, and, Lily noted, she doubted he would be a frequent visitor. She was to trust no other wizards, including Albus Dumbledore, whom Lily referred to as a meddling old goat.

Violet almost started crying again, the relief was so great when she realized that the biggest logistical problems of her taking on Harry's guardianship had already been taken care of – including the ones she hadn't known were going to be problematic. Until Harry received his letter from Hogwarts at eleven, they both could have a relatively normal life – certainly a better life than she had had, growing up, as far as the money went. And they didn't need to worry about terrorists attacking them or magic (except the accidental sort, maybe) or work or _anything_.

If Lily hadn't had to die to bring the situation about, it would have been perfect.

Long after Harry was bedded down for the night, Violet collapsed onto her new sofa, the pages of the file scattered about her as she read through the letter yet again. Tears blotted the messy calligraphy as she tried to come to terms with the new reality of her life.

_Tell Harry what you think he needs to know of this, when you think he's old enough to understand. I trust you, Vi. I know you'll do right by my little boy. He will have to return to my world eventually, but until he does, I know you'll keep him safe and give him a loving home, just as your parents once did for me…_

**Then: The Lost Girl**

**Jenny – July, 1961**

"Please, Mrs. Evans," Jenny said, staring at the bright-eyed babe in the other woman's arms. "I know she's family to you, but… she's bound to be a witch – she will have to join my world, Matilde's world, eventually. Think how many advantages she would have, growing up surrounded by magic! And it would be much easier for you, too, not having to deal with accidental magic."

Mary Evans, nee Harrison, frowned. "Mrs. Carmichael, you have to understand, Lily has become a part of our family over the past year. Petunia would be devastated if –"

Jenny cut her off. "Imagine how Petunia will feel when her little sister shows signs of a power she will never experience, when she gets whisked off into a land of fairy stories and castles and magic that Petunia will never see." She took a deep breath and prepared to be ruthless. "It's only been nine months; I can still remove the memory charms Matilde placed on Petunia and your husband. Your daughter is _five_ , Mrs. Evans. She will adjust much better to losing her sister now than she would if Irene was slowly pulled away from her in ten years. I'm begging you, let me end the lie now, rather than drag it out to become far more painful years down the line."

Mary was crying, now, and Irene – Lily – was looking at her with concern, reaching for the tears on her face as she hugged her close. Jenny waited patiently for the older woman to reach a decision, peeking in on Petunia and Geoffrey, her elder son, in the meanwhile. They were still playing quietly in the living room. Nicolas, only six months old, had been left at home in the care of the Carmichael elves. She stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the children and hoping that Mary would decide to do the right thing, and let Jenny take custody of Irene. When she heard the sound of the muggle clearing her nose, she turned back.

"Lily," she said, her voice strained. "Lily is the last piece of Matilde I have left."

Jenny was fairly certain she felt her heart break a little, at that. "She was like a sister to me, too, Mrs. Evans… Mary."

"Would – would you bring her back to visit?" she asked with a sniff, and Jenny knew she had won.

" _Of course_ I would," she assured the older woman. "Every holiday, if you like."

Mary nodded. "I – just don't let her forget us. We're family – it took far too long for me to find Matilde again, after, well… you know about our parents?"

Jenny nodded. The Harrisons had been the worst sort of muggles, chucking their witch daughter out for the 'sin' of having magic.

"It seems like Matilde and I had only just re-connected, and then I thought she had died, and now she's gone again," she explained thickly, more tear threatening to fall.

Jenny nodded again. It seemed she was always bringing bad news to Mary Evans – first that her sister was missing and dead, and then, only a year and a half later (after it turned out that she had died on the operating table and been resuscitated by muggle medicine) that she was functionally comatose and unlikely ever to recover. And now she was trying to take back the child Mary had gone out of her way to make a part of her family.

But she was certain it was the best thing for Irene. She had almost talked herself into allowing the child to remain with her muggle family – had almost convinced herself that it would be fine for Irene to grow up ignorant of her magical heritage, and join the magical world at age eleven, like any muggleborn – like her mother and Jenny herself had done. But she hadn't quite managed it, and so here she was.

"Okay," Mary sniffled, stepping closer and passing the year-old infant across to her.

"Okay?"

Now it was Mary's turn to nod. Jenny gave her the most understanding smile she could muster.

"Okay, then. If you don't mind keeping Geoff and Irene occupied for a bit, I'll reverse the charms on Petunia – let her think that her cousin is going to live with her father's relatives, now."

"Is she? Are you? Do you know who her father is?" Mary asked suddenly.

Jenny grimaced. "No. There are ways to find out, though, and believe me, if it is at all possible, he will be held accountable for his actions."

"What do you mean?"

"You – she didn't tell you?" the witch answered awkwardly.

"Tell me what?"

"Oh… well… Irene was conceived in… the attack. The one that left her in hospital." _Please don't make me elaborate_ , she hoped desperately.

Thankfully Mary seemed to understand. "O-oh. No. She – she didn't say." They stared at each other awkwardly for a long moment, before the muggle broke the silence. "I'll just, um… go get Petunia, then." She held out her hands for Irene, and disappeared into the living room. Petunia returned in her place a moment later.

"Hi, Mrs. Carmichael. Mummy said you wanted to talk to me!" she said brightly, taking a seat at the table.

"I suppose I did," she sighed, and pointed her wand at the child. " _Dormire!"_

It was so much easier to modify memories when the subject was asleep.


	3. INTERLUDE: At First Glance

**Now: At First Glance**

**Severus – July 1985**

_9 January 1981_

_Dear Severus,_

_Happy birthday from beyond the grave!_

_I decided today that I would leave my journals to you, thus I suppose you may think of everything written from here on out as having been written with you in mind. I know if you were here in person, you would malign me for being so morbid as to be thinking of my death on your birthday, or perhaps for not having made arrangements to send a final message to you sooner, but it seemed somewhat appropriate at the time._

_To be precise, you should be receiving two copies of my journals – the originals and the back-ups – unless the originals are somehow destroyed. I leave to you the task of editing one of these copies and passing it on to Harry when you feel the time is right. I suppose the longer you wait, the less you will have to edit, but I should like to think that you would share my words and my work with our son as soon as possible._

_After all, if this book ends up in your hands, it means that my baby never really got to know me._

_I probably ought to address the topic of Harry directly. If you're reading through from the beginning, which, knowing you, you have done, you'll already be aware that Harry is, biologically, your son. I am sorry that I never told you. I believed that he would be safer, at least for the duration of the war, if James was believed to be his father. After all, the last scion of Potter will have more defenders than the impure bastard of a couple of half-bloods, one of whom was on the wrong side, no matter who wins in the end._

_(If I die before That Bastard, though, you have to find a way to kill him for me. I'm serious. Even if he's like, the Immortal Emperor of Magical Britain. You always did like a challenge, right?)_

_The ritual I used to change our son's appearance was weak – I sacrificed only his name and the person he might have been to take on another in its stead, and neglected the blood-adoption aspect, as it seems best to keep our options – and his – open at this time._

_(Plus it seems a little ridiculous to be planning many years into the future when I cannot even guarantee our survival_ _one_ _year into the future…)_

_The magic will last thirteen years, and then break down over a period of six months or so. Perhaps if you and James were more similar in appearance (like he and Black, for instance), this would be slow enough for the changes to go un-noticed by most, or written off as puberty. As it is, the changes have been rather drastic, and I am afraid that it will become quite obvious that Harry's appearance is changing sometime between Mabon and Samhain of 1993._

_Aside from the issue of appearances, I have made arrangements for Harry's guardian to be gifted a safe-house. Black is Harry's godfather, and also our Secret Keeper, so to be frank, there is little chance that he will ever become Harry's guardian – he would die before he let harm come to us. Harry's godmother is my cousin Violet – I can imagine the face you are making now – stop it – just because she's a muggle doesn't mean she won't have Harry's best interests at heart, and she's only two years younger than us, and she's well out of the war. I trust her to raise him well. You are keyed into the wards at the safehouse. If I've done it right, you should even be excepted from the anti-scrying wards. You would not_ _believe_ _how difficult that was – or maybe you would, if you didn't just skim over the twenty pages of arithmancy pertaining to the problem a ways back…_

The 'letter' went on for several more, painfully bright and cheerful pages, but Severus was unable to concentrate well enough to focus on their words.

He had a son.

 _He and Lily_ had a _son_.

And she had never told him.

He was disguised as a _Potter_ – nearly six years old, now – and he had never met him.

 _Dark Powers_ , he realized, the strangest thoughts coming to him in the midst of what he thought might have been genuine shock. My son _is the famous Harry Potter_.

_Fuck._

_Just… fuck._

He re-read the last paragraph he had comprehended again. Harry, _his son_ , was with Violet. He remembered Violet. Contrary to Lily's assumption, he was not making a face at the fact that she was a muggle – he could see the sense in hiding the boy with muggles, and she was by far a better choice than _Petunia_. (That was twice, at least, that she had made false assumptions about his behavior, for he had not read straight through the journal, but had opened it first to the book-mark she had left in place, reading the letter before anything else.)

The Violet Evans he remembered was a skinny, gangly kid, wide-eyed and credulous, curious about the world, and in love with the idea of magic. She had always seemed _so_ much younger than Lily, tagging along after the two of them, those last few years in Cokeworth. He couldn't imagine her as a mother, but then, he couldn't imagine Lily as a mother, either, or himself as a father.

He realized he was still staring blankly at the book, lost in thought, and set it aside, carefully, deliberately.

He had to find him. His son. Harry.

It was _necessary_.

He had already been absent from his child's life for its first five years – three longer than necessary – because he had been unable to face the reality of Lily's death and open the books she had left him. He hadn't dared allow himself to read them while he still thought of her every day, actively mourning – this was the first time he had… He had been so _stupid_ – had he but known years ago…

He was standing and striding toward the door before he realized he had made the decision to go, and now.

He stopped, briefly, to grab a broom, and again at the edge of the wards, to perform a seeking spell. Then he was gone, following the sense of direction and purpose it gave him to a moderately-sized, apparently muggle house.

Violet Evans hadn't changed much in the past – Dark Powers, it must have been ten years, at least, since he had last seen Lily's muggle family. The younger girl had barely been a teenager, then. She still had a long face with a thin, too-wide mouth (currently set in an expression of disapproving anger); wisps of strawberry-blonde escaping the braid that trailed over her right shoulder; and a penchant for mismatched, too-bright colors that would not have looked out of place on Albus Dumbledore. She had grown up, though, he noted with a second glance: not only were there subtle, feminine curves under her flowered blouse and long hippie skirt, but she was wearing sensible shoes and had an air of businesslike purpose about her that she had never had as a child.

"Severus Snape," she said, her voice cold, arms crossed, blocking the doorway rather than inviting him to enter. "I've been expecting you."

"Vi – Miss Evans," he corrected himself with a stutter. "Is – is it true? I – Lily and I – our… we had – have – a son?"

And at that the frigid anger that had been practically rolling off of her melted away. "You… you didn't know? Bloody hell… She said she'd tell you – my letter, she said she left you one, too… Oh, Sev, I'm so sorry. Come in."

The half-hour that followed was one of the most surreal of Severus' life, sitting down to tea with the muggle woman and explaining himself and his absence, hearing the stories of his son's early childhood, from his first accidental magic to his excitement for kindergarten. He had, apparently, arrived during 'nap time,' conveniently giving the adults time to talk… until they were interrupted by the terrified sobs of a very young child who has just woken from a nightmare, and a dark-haired boy, rubbing his eyes, wandering into the sitting room.

"Aunt Vi? I tried to make her stop crying, but she wants _you_ ," he mumbled, clearly still sleepy.

Violet sighed. "All right. Harry, this is… this is…"

"Severus," Severus interrupted. They hadn't actually gotten around to discussing what was to be done with the child, now, and how to introduce him, but he knew, instinctively, that he did not want his first introduction to his son to be held with a screaming child just out of sight, rushed and sudden, with the boy half asleep.

"Severus," Violet agreed. "I'll go check on Sarah, love. Maybe you can keep Severus company for me?"

The boy, _Harry_ , nodded eagerly, taking stock of the remains of their tea. "Can I have a biscuit?"

"Just _one_ ," his aunt answered, ruffling his messy hair as he hopped up on a chair and helped himself.

And then she was gone, and Severus was left, face to face and all alone with the boy who was, supposedly, his son, though he looked, for all the world, like James Potter in miniature, with Lily's eyes.

He stared, dumbstruck, as the child crunched happily at his treat, making a mess out of the crumbs. He shook shaggy bangs out of his eyes, and Severus caught a flash of red – an unhealed scar, marring his forehead.

When the biscuit was gone, the child finally deigned to take notice of him, between longing glances at the remaining food. "Can I have another one?" he asked, finally.

Severus startled, taken aback by the request. "Violet said one," he answered, attempting to moderate his usual stern tone.

"I could tell her you took it," Harry said, with a look that might pass for cunning in a five-year-old.

The young wizard found himself… amused. "Would she believe you?"

"She would if you told her."

"And why would I do that?" Severus asked, curious to see where this logic would take them.

Harry gave him a winning smile. "'Cause I asked nice?"

Despite his appearance, he clearly was Lily's child. "I don't do favors for strangers," he replied gently, almost teasing.

The boy immediately stuck out his hand. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

Severus shook it gently. "Severus Snape. How do you do."

Harry echoed him, then added, "Now we're not strangers…"

The dark young man laughed, though he was fortunately spared disappointing his son by the reappearance of Violet, following a now-energetic girl who could not have been much more than two years old, and who immediately attempted to climb into her cousin's lap. He hadn't even noticed when the crying stopped, he thought, kicking himself for his inattention.

"Rats," Harry grumbled, on seeing his aunt, which immediately made her suspicious.

"Harry," she suggested, "why don't you and Sarah go play in your room while Severus and I talk about grown-up things?"

"O _kay_ ," he grumbled. "C'mon, Sarah. Bye, Sev'rus."

"Farewell, Harry," he managed to respond, before the boy disappeared with a negligent wave.

Violet stared after them for a moment before she asked, with the smallest of smirks, "What did he do?"

"Do?"

"I know that look," she grinned. "He did something that made you think of Lily. What was it?"

Severus quickly locked his expression into a less-revealing mask. "I don't know what you're talking about," he lied, then changed the subject. "You're married?"

She laughed. "No. Seeing someone fairly seriously, though. Charlie. He'll be home in an hour or so, if you'd like to stick around and meet him." His (hypocritical) judgment of her for having a two-year-old daughter out of wedlock must have shown somehow, or perhaps she was too-accustomed to having to explain, because she added, "Sarah's mother died soon after she was born."

He nodded, at a loss as for what to say to continue the conversation. Thankfully, it seemed Violet was not.

"I've… I've been expecting this day to come for… for a long time, now, you know." He raised an eyebrow at her. "You – you can't take him."

Until that moment, he hadn't even been considering the prospect. He lived at Hogwarts, for the love of Magic! He worked eighty hours or more most weeks, under the thumb of a manipulative old coot, to whom he was _still_ avowed in service because his _other_ insane, overly-powerful master apparently wasn't quite dead – all appearances to the contrary. The entire world of Magical Britain knew him as a notorious double agent: he was trusted by no one entirely, and he had a great many enemies who would target his son simply for _being_ his son, if not for the fact that he was also _Harry FREAKING Potter_.

Now, though, he responded contrarily, almost out of habit. "I _am_ the boy's father, Violet!"

"I… I know that. It's just… he's _happy_ here, Sev. And well… legally, I'm not sure you are." He narrowed his eyes at her. "If I've understood her letter, well… Lily named James as his father. She did some kind of – of ritual, put him under a spell so that no one would know otherwise. It will break when he turns thirteen. But until then… until then, you're _not_ his father."

Severus tramped down the fury that rose as she sat across from him, sipping awkwardly at cold tea and calmly explaining that he had no place in his son's life. "Lily – Lily would have wanted me to be involved. She – You _know_ how much she hated her own father for abandoning her!" She had hated him for other reasons later, when she learned who he grew up to become, but when they were young, she had thought Tom Riddle the worst sort of man simply for abandoning his unborn child and her mother without a word.

Violet was quiet for a long moment, staring into her teacup as though its reflective surface was a lifeline. When she finally raised her head, it was with a stubbornness in her eye to rival Lily at her worst. "I do. And I know she wanted to… to give you the chance to be involved. She made it so you could find us, here. But she knew you. She wrote that she didn't think you could take care of a child." He tried to interrupt, but she talked straight over his objections. "Not that you wouldn't want to, or that you _shouldn't_ , but that you _couldn't_ , because of the war and your circumstances. She didn't think you would visit often, even. She wanted us – me – to raise Harry away from your world, away from the war, and tell him about what had happened, about what she wrote, when he was old enough to understand. She wanted him to grow up _happy_ and _loved_ and _safe_ , and by God, I will see that he does!"

His first instinct, engrained through long years of conflicts with Gryffindors and Death Eaters alike, was to menace her, escalate the fight, demand that she hand over his child – to whom she had no right. But he didn't. He was nothing if not good at keeping his temper – any spy who couldn't, well… he would have been dead in a fortnight. He knew he did not truly wish to win this fight. There was truth in her words, when she said that Lily had known he could not take care of a child. It was only a kindness to say it was only for his circumstances – he was not suited to fatherhood; it was just as true now as it had been five, six years before. Still, there was one point he could not allow to pass unchallenged. "Do you think I would not love my son?" he hissed. "Lily's son?"

Her eyes softened. "Of course you would. How could you not? But there are those in your world who would not – who would hate him, for his mother's memory – and the other side would hate him for you. He deserves a normal life."

"He deserves _magic_!" Severus snapped, thinking of his own childhood.

Violet recoiled as though he had slapped her. "It's not like we're planning on _keeping_ it from him! How could we? We're just… waiting until he's old enough to understand before we tell him. I do understand how the Statute of Secrecy works, Sev! He's going to go to a muggle school, so we can't tell him until he's old enough to understand the importance of keeping it a secret."

The wizard reined in his temper in the face of her reasonable response, restricting his next sally to: "He won't get to have a _normal_ life, anyway."

The muggle glared at him. "You know what I mean, Sev! I'm not my sister, or my brother. Happy! Healthy! Well out of your stupid world and its stupid wars and prejudices, despite you and Lily being stupid enough to bring a child right into the middle of it! Just because he's a wizard doesn't mean he can't have a _normal_ childhood."

"What – no," Severus sputtered, then pinched the bridge of his nose, warding off a tension headache. "It's not _that_ – It's… He's _Harry Potter_." Violet gave him a pale imitation of her lost cousin's most skeptical look. "He's… They call him the _Boy Who Lived_. He's… he's fucking famous, Lettie, because he didn't die, and the Dark Lord did – or, well, vanished, anyway. He's in _history books_." He allowed himself an inarticulate noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "You're… you're right. I know it – I just…"

"Wait – what?" The woman looked rather startled, doubtless at the fact that he had so easily capitulated.

"Oh, stuff it, Violet. I won't say it again. I can't take him. Even if I could, I… I shouldn't. I'd have to disguise him somehow, and I can't care for a child while I'm at that thrice-accursed school, and," he laughed humorlessly, "I really shouldn't even be here. If Dumbledore finds out… _when_ Dumbledore finds out…"

"He knows."

" _What_?"

"He knows that Harry lives with me, and not Petunia. He came around to set up some fancy blood wards of some sort, to protect Harry outside of the house, though we still use the amulets Lily left for us, too, so no one can locate him by magic when we go out. We haven't seen Dumbledore, or any other wizard, for that matter, in years. He wasn't very happy that we made him change his plans," she explained. "But you don't need to worry about leading him here."

"No, not _that_ ," Severus scowled. "If he knew that Harry is my son, or even that I cared about him any more than any other random child… He would use him against me. It is not even a question of whether, but when."

Violet was frowning now, too. "Surely he isn't _that_ bad?"

Severus simply glowered at her. "I cannot visit. I live under constant surveillance for fear that I will find some way to turn on the old goat, and that surveillance is near total, as I both live _and_ work in the _magical castle_ of which he is the lord and master."

Pity skimmed across her features, fleeting, but present. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed," he sneered. "I should go, before anyone realizes that I have gone, perhaps make a quick stop somewhere as an excuse…" he trailed off, already considering the necessary elements of a quick alibi. "I am sorry, but I find I am obliged after all to leave my son in your care, Violet." Almost to his surprise, he realized he _was_ sorry, too.

She reached over and squeezed his nearer hand gently. "It's okay, Sev. We'll take care of him, you know."

He nodded stoically. "I'll set up a method for you to contact me if necessary and owl you the details…"

Violet nodded and changed the subject with the Gryffindorish bluntness the Evans girls had always had in common, ignoring his need to leave: "Did you say Harry's in _history books?_ And what did you mean when you said _he_ just vanished? I thought he was dead! Lily – I thought she died to _kill_ the bastard!"

Perhaps it was just as well: He did not know when he would again manage to escape the Headmaster's watchful eye. He probably should fill her in as much as possible before he left: any excuse he could come up with to explain his absence now would stretch to another hour or two. But now that he knew his son was, indeed, safe – now that he had seen the boy for himself, and the immediate decision of what to do with the child was made – he was able to think once again. Lily hadn't, apparently, managed to kill the Dark Lord with her death, but he realized as her cousin spoke that she might have left Severus some insight into exactly how she had _stopped_ him.

Perhaps, he thought, with the first flash of hope he had felt in a very long time, with the help of her journals, he could figure out how, exactly, the Dark Lord had survived after all…

"If only," he addressed Violet's question distractedly. "He's definitely _gone_ , but there are certain signs that point toward his not having been completely destroyed."

The muggle's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Go on."

Severus really did _not_ want to have this conversation. "How much do you know about… about the war, and specifically… my role in it?"

"More than you wish I did, I'd wager," she admitted. "Lily – her letter said you became one of _them_. She didn't say _why_."

The former Death Eater pinched the bridge of his nose again. "I was young and angry, and very, very stupid. It was simple, really, though it seemed very complicated at the time: I did it to protect her. I would have done _anything_ to protect her."

It was true: He had been courted on his own merits as a young potions prodigy, and he had excelled among the Dark Lord's followers on the strength of his intelligence and his ability to dissemble. But he would have held out against joining them if they had not threatened Lily. She had been his one true weakness, after all, his first friend and only love. He sometimes thought he had been doomed, somehow, the moment he realized she was a witch.


	4. Witches and Wizards

**Then: You're a witch.**

**Severus – January, 1969**

Severus Snape tromped through the icy slush that had taken over his drab, muggle neighborhood, headed to the park. No one else was out, which was the way he liked it. It meant he didn't get any strange looks to go with his strange clothing, and no worried strangers saying things like, _if you need a place to go, son, the church is always open…_

It was very cold, and he was under-dressed for the weather, but he could think of worse ways to spend his ninth birthday. Like being at home, with his parents, who were both drunk at the moment, neither one of them in a state to remember that it was an important day. Hell, if it came down to it, he supposed it wasn't really _that_ important. Nine wasn't a very special age, after all. If he was eighteen, or even seventeen, in the magical world, he could look forward to being an adult. If he was thirteen, well, he'd be a teenager, for all the good _that_ did him. His mum had done a little ritual on his seventh birthday, but there wasn't anything like that for the ninth.

 _Bother_ , he thought, making his way toward the climbing structure, which at least blocked some of the wind. He had wanted to be alone, but it seemed the red-headed girl was back. Lily. She didn't live too far away – he had heard her mother calling her home on several occasions. She always sat alone, on the swings, and he had never talked to her, but it was hard not to notice another person as solitary as himself. He had noticed her at school, as well. She had to be new in town, since she had joined him at St. Gertrude's the week before, in a different classroom, but the same year, he thought.

Today, she was actually swinging, instead of just sitting and staring off into space. She was going so high he was surprised the posts weren't jerking and wobbling, and little flurries of snow were following her back up from the ground. Suddenly, she let go, right at the top of her swing, so fast she actually went _up_ a few more feet before she fell – no, _floated_ back to the ground, surrounded by equally slow-falling snowflakes.

Severus gaped at her. _She_ can't _be_ , he thought, all disbelieving.

He must have made some sort of noise, because she whirled to face him, startled and quickly going red. He stepped toward her uncertainly, and she ran, as though the hounds of hell were chasing her.

 _Well_. That certainly solved the problem of the fact that he had wanted to skulk alone, with no witnesses to his pathetic lack of birthday celebrations, even if they didn't know it was his birthday at all, but it was a hell of a reception, a girl _running away_ from him like that.

But then, he realized, if _he_ had got caught doing accidental magic in front of a muggle – or thought he had – he probably would have run, too.

So, he decided, he would just have to find a way to let her know he _wasn't_ a muggle.

Happy birthday to me, he thought sarcastically, but he was, secretly, ever-so-slightly pleased. At the very least, he was curious, and now he had a project to work on.

…

It took another two weeks before he managed to catch up with her. She was faster than he thought, and had a knack for never being alone, _ever_ , even if she still didn't really _talk_ to anyone, which made it incredibly difficult to talk to _her_ about something like magic. He finally cornered her by following her home from school one day, and waiting until her mother ( _Aunt_ , he mentally corrected himself, recalling an overheard exchange) asked her to take out the trash.

"Lily!" he said, popping up from his hiding place, behind her father's ( _Uncle's_ ) car.

She let out a very girly scream and dropped the bag. It burst, of course.

"No, no, sorry – stop screeching like a bloody banshee!"

"What do you want?!" she asked tremulously. "Why have you been following me?"

"I –" Severus hesitated. "I saw you, at the park…" he explained weakly. Somehow, he hadn't quite thought this part of the interaction through.

"I don't know what you think you saw," she said coldly, shoveling scattered food-scraps back to the bag with a broken tea-saucer. "But you _didn't_. There's nothing you could've seen that's interesting enough to bother stalking me for weeks!"

He approached cautiously, and began helping her to pick up the larger bits of paper and foil. "I, um… there really is," he corrected her. "I, ah… don't know if you know this, but you're a witch."

She froze. "There's no such thing as witches," she said, but he could tell she didn't really believe it.

He smirked. "Sure there are. My mum's one. And I'm a wizard," he added proudly.

"Prove it," she demanded, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What – how am I supposed to do that? I don't have a wand yet, and there's no way in hell I'm going to kiss your hand after we've been picking up rubbish! I suppose I could make a potion, but that's not very fast, and I don't know where to get half the things I'd need…" he trailed off helplessly.

She bit her lip, obviously failing to hide a grin. "Okay, I believe you. Lily Evans-Carmichael. You can call me Lily."

"Severus Snape. I suppose you can call me Severus."

"I had no idea there were other magicals about," she said quietly.

He shook his head, helping her heave the torn bag into the bin. "It's just me and my mum. Da's a muggle. That's half the reason I wanted to meet you – I don't know any other wizards or witches either. You're not muggleborn, are you? No, you must not be, if you know about muggles." He was only a little disappointed at that. He had been imagining himself teaching her all about the magical world. But if she knew more than he did, he wouldn't be opposed to learning more about magic from her, instead.

"No, my parents were both magical, but they died a long time ago, and then my guardians died last Samhain, so I'm living with my Aunt Mary, now. She knows about magic, but none of the rest of them do," she explained, nodding at the house. "They're all muggles."

"Lily?" a familiar voice called from the house.

"Gotta go!" she said immediately. "We'll talk at school!"

She was gone before he could respond, hurrying back to the lighted doorway, and explaining before she even reached it that she had just been startled by a cat and dropped the bag. He grinned to himself. There was something appealing about the idea of being Lily Evans' secret magical friend.

**Now: Does that mean I'm a wizard?**

**Harry – July, 1988**

"All right, what kind of story do you want tonight?" Aunt Violet asked, as the three of them piled into Harry's bed, Sarah on Aunt Violet's lap. Sarah was only four, and would most likely fall asleep long before Harry or the end of the story, so she got to sit there, easier to pick up when the story was over, but Aunt Violet always kept one hand free to play with his hair as he drifted off as well.

"Princesses!" Sarah demanded.

"No! Motorbikes!" Harry objected.

"No! Castles! And magic!"

"Yeah, magic!"

Aunt Violet laughed. "Okay, okay. It just so happens I do know a story about Castles and Magic. There's no princesses or motorbikes," (Both children groaned.) " _but_ it's a very special story – do you want to know why?"

"Why? Why?" they begged in concert.

"Because this story is _true_. It all started a long time ago, when I was just a little younger than Harry – the year I turned six."

"I'll be _eight_ soon," Harry reminded her.

"I know, love. We'll have a party."

"Storytime!" Sarah demanded.

Aunt Violet petted her hair to quiet her. "When I was six years old, I lived in a little house with your Aunt Petunia and Uncle Matt and Grandmum Mary and Grandpapa Fred, the five of us in this tiny little house, in a town called Cokeworth on the River Trent."

"Aun' P'tunia?" Sarah asked.

"You've never met her, sweetheart, nor Matt, and my parents are long gone."

"That's sad," the girl said solemnly. Harry nodded. He knew Aunt Violet had a brother and a sister, but he had never met them, either.

"It's not a happy story, honey. True stories rarely are."

"You don't have to tell us if it's sad," Harry told her.

She ruffled his hair. "I'll stop at a happy part. When I was six, my cousin, Lily, came to stay with us."

"My mum!"

"Yes, love, your mum. She was two years older than me, and very pretty, with red hair, darker than mine, and bright green eyes like Harry's here."

"You're pretty, too," Harry said loyally, as Sarah peered at his eyes.

"Aww, you'll be a real hit with the ladies someday, Harry," Aunt Violet smiled. Harry didn't get it, but he smiled back. "Lily was very sad, at the time. She lived with her godparents before –"

"Like me!"

"Yes, hon, just like you. But unlike you, her godparents were killed. There was a war going on, you see. It was just starting, then. Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael died in an attack on their way home from a party, and so Lily had to come live with us, even though we had only seen her on holidays before."

"Sad," Sarah repeated.

"Are you sure this story has a happy ending?" Harry demanded.

"No, but it has a happy middle," Aunt Violet grinned, tickling his tummy.

"Stop it! Stop it!" he shrieked, laughing and rolling away.

"Then stop interrupting!" his aunt teased.

"Okay, okay! I'll stop!"

"Okay, then. So Lily came to live with us, but she spent most of her time away from the house, because it was a small house, and there were a lot of us, and she wanted to be alone, because she was sad. She had two adopted brothers, one older and one just a few months younger."

"I have other uncles?" Harry interrupted. Unlike Uncle Charlie, who was Sarah's daddy, and Uncle Matt, whom he had never met, he had never even heard of his mother having brothers.

"They died in the war as well, love, many years later. But at the time, when Lily came to live with us, they were alive, and Lily missed them terribly. Their names were Geoff and Nico. Geoff was already off at boarding school, but she worried about Nico, who was sent to live with one of the other Carmichaels.

"I was a little brat," Aunt Violet said, laughing slightly. "I kept trying to follow her around – she was so much closer to my age than Petunia, you see. I thought we should be friends just because of that. I didn't realize then that she wanted to be alone until she yelled at me one day in the park. She made friends with a boy in her class a few weeks later, and I was terribly jealous that she wanted to spend time with him and not me.

"The boy's name was Severus Snape. He was a weird, poor boy, and his family lived down by the river. She started spending all her time with him, and Matt and I couldn't figure out for the life of us why. Petunia told us it was because she felt sorry for him. But Lily must have known something we didn't, because years passed – three of them – and the summer Lily turned eleven, she was invited to go to a special school, away in Scotland: her mother's alma mater."

"W'ssat?" Sarah asked sleepily.

"It means the place her mum went to school," Aunt Violet explained. Sarah nodded. "Severus Snape was going there as well: they took a train north at the end of August, and they were gone all the way until Christmas."

"That's a long time," Harry yawned. He didn't think he'd like leaving his family for so long.

"It is," Aunt Violet nodded. "But it was important for her to go. You see, the school, Hogwarts, is not just any school. It's a great castle, away in the mountains, and it teaches one very special thing."

"What?" Harry asked excitedly.

" _Magic_."

"Magic? My mum went to a magic school?"

Aunt Violet nodded again. "Not that we knew it at the time. She came home for Christmas full of stories about her friends, and Geoff, and her teachers, but without much to say on her classes. It wasn't until she came home for the summer that we found out about _magic_."

"How did you find out?" Unlike most bedtime stories, this one wasn't making Harry sleepy _at all_ , though Sarah seemed to be completely out, now.

"Well, Lily had this trunk, you see, that she had taken to school with her, and your Uncle Matt, he was a nosey little boy, not unlike some other people I can think of," she tapped him gently on the nose, and he giggled. "Matt was curious about what she had done all year, so he sneaked into her trunk and stole a book: _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_."

"A magic book?"

"Yes, full of spells to make light, or to make something float, and even silly little ones, like cleaning your teeth, and brushing your hair… it might take magic to tame _your_ hair," she teased.

Harry was so entranced by the idea of magic spells that he didn't even glare at her for making fun of his always-messy hair. "What happened next?"

"Well, Petunia found me and Matt looking over the book and saying the words and trying to make things happen – not that anything did, when we tried it. She went spare and told our mum, and she made us all sit down and told us a story about her little sister, my Aunt Matilde, who had been a witch detective, and who had been murdered for asking questions about the wrong people.

"It turned out that Lily had been passed back and forth between magic and not longer than we knew. She lived with my parents and Petunia before I was even born, and then my mother let Mrs. Carmichael take her because she was a witch, and so was Lily, and she thought that it would be better for Lily to grow up with magic. But that didn't last, because of the war, and so she came back to us. Until she turned eleven, and went off to school. She was always meant to end up in the magical world, in the end, I guess.

"My mother told us that we weren't to say anything to anyone: there was a Ministry of Magic, you see, that was meant to keep magic hidden. But we couldn't hide that we knew from Lily. Petunia didn't like magic, you see. The idea that the world was so very different, really, from what she knew, bothered her. She and Lily had it out a few days later, and from then on they avoided each other and the subject of magic as much as possible when they were both at home.

"Matt and I… we thought that magic – the idea of magic being _real_ – was the best thing ever. We followed Lily and Severus around every spare second of the day. Matt was jealous. He wanted to be able to do magic himself, and when he couldn't, he pretended he didn't care even a little about its existence. I couldn't. As much as I would have liked to be able to do it, too, I couldn't pretend that I didn't love it anyway, even when I couldn't do it myself. The things she showed us…

"She had a magic wand, you know, that she could use to do all of the charms and spells in the textbook we had stolen, but she didn't need it – not for everything. She showed us little magics, every summer – making a cut rose bloom in her hand or lighting a candle with a glare. She brought us soaps that turned into frog-spawn in your hands and enchanted sweets and magical photographs – moving pictures of her life at school, and with the Carmichaels."

"Really?" Harry asked skeptically. He wanted to believe it – it sounded like she was telling the truth – but sometimes it was hard to tell. This could be like the time Uncle Charlie insisted that he was really Luke Skywalker, and had come to Earth to secretly train the next generation of Jedi, starting with Harry. Mentioning things that could be _proof_ of magic though… that was something Uncle Charlie always avoided doing when he was funning.

"Really," Aunt Violet grinned.

"Truly?"

"Truly," she laughed. Sarah muttered something in her sleep, but stilled after a few seconds. "Lily, your mother, was a witch. And James, your father, he was a wizard. They met at that magic school of theirs."

"Does that mean _I'm_ a wizard, too?" Harry asked, playing along, still hoping it was true. "If my mum and dad were, both?"

"Oh, yes, I think so," Aunt Violet said, still smiling. "In fact, I'm sure of it. You can't tell anyone, though. It's a secret."

Harry nodded, but he was torn, both about keeping the secret and believing it. Most of the time, Aunt Violet and Uncle Charlie said family shouldn't keep secrets from each other. "Does Uncle Charlie know?" he asked.

Aunt Violet nodded. "I told him after your teacher's wig turned blue last year."

He made a face. Mrs. Spencer was mean, saying nasty things about how he always looked so scruffy and unkempt. But her own hair changing colors had been very funny. He hadn't thought for a second that he had been responsible for that, though. If he had been… "Can I tell Sarah? She can't keep secrets yet, but you always say it's not right to keep secrets from your family…"

His aunt shrugged. "I think it's okay. Anyone would think she was just being silly, you know, talking about her big brother being magic. But no one outside the family, okay?"

Harry grinned. "Okay. I won't tell anyone outside the family _that I'm a wizard_."

He whispered the secret, and she leaned over to kiss him goodnight, on the forehead, right over the lightning-shaped scar that he had always had, as long as he could remember. Aunt Violet said he got it before he lived with them, and Uncle Charlie said it was the Mark of Destiny. Exactly what the destiny was depended on what movie or story was his latest favorite. Maybe it was his destiny to be a great wizard, like Merlin, or Gandalf, or Christopher Chant!

"Good boy," Aunt Violet said, hauling herself and Sarah out of the bed. "I love you, Harry."

"I love you, too, Aunt Violet."

"Sleep well, and sweet dreams, little wizard."

He nodded, grinning, and snuggled deeper into the covers as she turned off the light.

When he woke up in the morning, he thought he might have imagined it all – or dreamed it, falling asleep in the middle of a story about magic. When he found the moving photograph of his mother – dark red hair and eyes like his, waving enthusiastically at the camera – and a dark-haired, grumpy-looking boy on his bedside table, he was so excited that he let out a proper whoop before running to breakfast to show his sister and tell her _everything_.


	5. Stirrings of Destiny

**Now: Fame and Fortune Telling**

**Harry – July, 1990**

"Happy Birth-day, dear Har-ry… Happy Birth-day to you!"

The crowd of nine and ten-year-olds burst into applause, more for the cake, Harry suspected, than for him. Despite the fact that most of the boys in his class had come to his birthday party, he wasn't very close to any of them: it was hard to _really_ be friends with someone when you couldn't tell them the most important thing about yourself, and the fact that he was a wizard was pretty darn important!

"Can I cut it, Aunt Violet?" he begged. " _Please_?"

"No, I think we'd best let Miss Polly, here, do her job," Aunt Violet suggested, waving over the roller-rink girl who had brought out the cake in the first place. Harry, seeing the size of the knife she was holding gulped and moved out of the way: on second thought, if _he_ had that big a knife, he'd probably fall on it and kill himself, because he had already tripped and crashed three different times since the party began. (Sarah, of course, hadn't at all, zipping in and out between the older boys with no trouble at all, the little show-off!)

The party broke up rather quickly after the cake was served, with parents arriving to collect their children within the hour. Harry had to see them all off, and thank them for coming, which was kind of a pain, and then Aunt Violet herded him and Sarah (and the presents from the few mothers who had ignored the 'no gifts' bit of the invitation) to the car while Uncle Charlie settled up with the man at the desk.

At least Harry could say this about being ten: having a later bedtime than Sarah for the first time ever _rocked_. He got to stay in the living room, watching telly with Uncle Charlie, while Aunt Violet carried his very grumpy, overly-tired little sister off to bed.

When she came back, the adults exchanged a heavy _look_.

"We agreed to tell him today," Uncle Charlie said firmly.

Aunt Violet made a face, but sat down beside him on the sofa, leaving Harry in his armchair to turn and face both of them. "Tell me what?!" he asked excitedly.

"Ten years old… that's an important age," she hedged. "Just one more year until you go to Hogwarts, you know."

"Yeah!" he said proudly. There had been a time, when he had first found out about magic, that he had been scared of the idea of leaving his family for months at a go, but the more he had thought about it, the more he wanted to know everything about the magical world. "One year, and one month, right?"

Uncle Charlie nodded, and Aunt Violet said, "Yes, but there's something you need to know before you go back to the magical world, and it's going to take some time getting used to."

"What is it?" he asked again, still excited.

"Harry, son," Uncle Charlie said, in a rather serious tone, "it's… this is not something to take lightly."

Harry frowned, and almost asked if he should be worried, but before he could, Aunt Violet spoke up.

"It's not really bad news," she said quickly, "but it's a little sad, and it could be a little overwhelming, too."

"O… _kay_ …"

His aunt took a deep breath. "The long and short of it is, Harry… you're famous."

"What?" Harry asked flatly. He couldn't be _famous_. That was just… ridiculous. Even more ridiculous than his being a wizard. "Is this like Uncle Charlie being a Jedi?" he asked dubiously.

"Oh, come _on_ , kid, aren't you ever going to let me live that down?"

Harry smirked and shook his head, but Aunt Violet was still being serious. "No. No, it's not like that at all. You really are famous in Magical Britain. Everyone knows your name. You're… you're in _history_ books, love."

Something in Harry's mind seemed to short-circuit at that. "Wha -? But… how? I don't understand… How can I be…? I haven't done anything… have I?"

"It's about the Mark of Destiny," Uncle Charlie said.

"It's because of how your parents died," Aunt Violet corrected him with a glare. "And the fact that you lived."

"How… how my parents died? You told me they were… in a war."

"Oh, sweetheart, they were."

**Then: Fate and Love**

**Severus – October, 1970**

Severus was already awake when the pebble cracked against his window. It was very late. He could still hear parties going on down the street, but all the Halloween revelers had long since retreated into their houses. He opened the sash slowly to avoid any sound, and shifted his weight carefully to the adjacent drain-pipe, shimmying down with a bag over his shoulder. How he would get back in was a mystery. His mum had been more sober, lately, teaching him about Hogwarts and the very basics of magic (mostly schoolyard hexes and jinxes) in preparation for his departure in just under a year. He liked to think it was helping her, being all excited for him to be headed off to learn magic. The only bad part was, it rather put a damper on his ability to sneak around when he pleased. He would never get away with sleeping at Lily's as he had the year before if he tried it today.

 _Well_ , he thought, almost resigned to being stuck out all night, _tomorrow_ is _Sunday_. He supposed he would just have to pretend to have gotten up extra-early, if it turned out he couldn't sneak back to bed.

"Ready, Sev?" Lily asked, bouncing slightly on her toes.

He nodded. "I got the wine and the knife."

"I've got candles, bread, salt, and water."

"Matches?"

"Magic," she countered, and they shared a grin.

"Right, then, milady," he said, gesturing down the street. "After you."

Instead of racing off, she looped her arm through his, skipping at his side. Last year they hadn't celebrated Samhain together. Lily had written to Geoff, her godbrother, asking him how she should honor his parents, her guardians who had died. Since she obviously couldn't join in the Carmichael ritual from the Evans' house, he had sent back a packet of notes on more individual celebrations. She had made up a sort of ritual in the months since its arrival, and demanded his help in performing it. He didn't know anyone who had died, except his father's parents, and he had never met them, but he wasn't about to waste an opportunity to spend more time with Lily, especially doing magic.

She had, well, _changed_ since she had arrived in Cokeworth almost two years before. She had been as quiet and solitary as him those first few months, right after she had been ripped away from her home and dropped into what she once described as the rundown little hell-hole of the Evans' house. (He gathered that the Carmichaels were rich, or at least much richer than anyone in _their_ neighborhood. Mr. Evans, after all, had a car, and could therefore still find work, which put the Evanses head and shoulders above the Snapes, even if they did have four kids to feed instead of just the one. If their house was a hell-hole, the Carmichaels must be _loaded_.) Since he had befriended her (and how strange was that, to have a friend?), she had become ever-more… alive. That wasn't the right word. Awake? She had made other friends, and all the teachers liked her, too.

He lived in mortal fear that she would, one day, decide she simply didn't care to associate with him anymore, now that she had other (better) options. Going to Hogwarts would be even worse, because he wouldn't be the only wizard she knew, which he was still convinced was half the reason she was his friend right now. She insisted that she wasn't about to abandon him, and that he was the only person who truly _knew_ her, but he wasn't convinced.

Still, it meant that he cherished every moment they spent together all the more.

She kissed her fingers, and touched them to the iron gate of the cemetery as they passed through, as she always did. She had never satisfactorily managed to explain _why_ , but he had begun copying her over the summer, when they came by to enjoy long, lazy walks with no one else around. He had since begun developing a sense for the boundaries of the enclosed space, though he wasn't sure if that was touching the gates at work, or just his increasing familiarity with the place. It might have all been in his head.

He resisted the urge to ask what they were doing as they meandered through the headstones, more reluctant to break the expectant silence than he was curious to find out what was going on, especially since he knew he would find out soon. They reached one, eventually, that was so old the carvings had all worn off. An obelisk, almost invisible with no moon, so far from the streetlights. Lily ran her hand over its rough surface reverently, then set down her bag, pulling candles out of it and setting them on the edge of the plinth. Three of them, mismatched tapers, from an odds and ends drawer, surely. Then the bread and a thermos which must contain water. He followed her lead, fetching out the knife she had demanded he filch from his kitchen (her aunt was too careful to not notice if she did it) and the wine, which had been equally easy to take from his parents, each of whom would simply assume the other had drunk it.

She smiled, unusually gently, and began to speak slowly. "We're here to honor my mother, Matilde Harrison, and my godmother, Jennifer Seymour, and her husband, Cadmus Carmichael, whose family took me in and made me one of their own. We are here to honor death and ending, the completion of cycles and the rejoining of their souls with the Deathly Power, with magic itself. We purify the space three times, with salt," (she took what was clearly the salt-shaker from her family's table, and walked a slow circle around the obelisk and Severus, sprinkling the salt behind her) "with water," (again, around the gravestone and her friend, pouring water on the dry ground and fallen leaves) "and with iron."

This time she took the knife, and physically cut an awkward, lumpy circle into the ground, which took quite a lot more time. Severus waited patiently.

"By salt and water and iron, I banish evil from this circle. I banish magic that would harm us, and I banish hateful thoughts. Let this space be cleansed, as the Veil between Life and Death grows thin."

Severus might have been imagining it, but the space within the circle did seem a little lighter, as though the air was clearer, somehow. And _colder_. He shivered.

Lily took his hand as she approached the three candles, pointing at each of them with fierce concentration. "We light these candles in remembrance of those who have gone before, and so that they might light the way should they choose to speak to us tonight. Matilde Harrison," (the first candle lit obediently) "Jennifer Seymour," (the second followed suit, albeit after a longer pause) "Cadmus Carmichael."

It took two tries, and Lily was swaying slightly by the time she got the third candle lit. It seemed to be a near thing. He squeezed her hand, steadying her, and after a moment of leaning her head against his shoulder, she began to speak again.

"We offer these sacrifices, to Death and the Dead, on this, their night: bread and wine and blood, that they might join us in celebration, to feast and make merry and feel the heat of life again."

 _Blood?_ Severus thought, slightly concerned. He said nothing, though, waiting to see where she was going with this.

The "sacrifice" took a bit more doing than any other part of the ritual, mostly because they didn't have a corkscrew, and had to dig the cork out with the knife. Severus did manage it, though, after a few minutes' work. Lily, meanwhile tore a chunk off the loaf of bread she had baked for the occasion, and laid it at the foot of the memorial. When he finally got the wine open, she soaked the bread with it, and then, before he could stop her, she grabbed the blade of the knife and pulled it from her closed fingers, allowing the resulting blood to drip onto the bread as well before digging a length of gauze from her bag and asking him silently with begging eyes to wrap it.

He complied, kneeling beside her on the ground, though he raised an eyebrow at her foolishness. She offered him the knife back, and after a moment, he took it, and jabbed his thumb with the point, summoning a few red drops to the surface.

She rolled her own eyes at his fastidiousness, then declared, "I, Lily Irene Evans-Carmichael, born of Harrison by Riddle, call to those loved and lost, across the Veil, that they might speak, if they so will. I call you by my name and yours, by shared blood spilled, and the bonds of magic and memory. Deathly Power, hear my plea; send forth a sign and let those who would, speak across the boundary of mortality as we honor their lives and their memories."

Then she elbowed him sharply in the side. He startled, not having realized that he had a speaking part, but tried to replicate her tone as best he could, despite his lack of lost relatives and ritual experience. "I, Severus Snape, son of Eileen Prince, call to any who might hear. By my blood and my name, I call across the Veil: let any who would speak to me come forth."

A cold wind gusted through the circle, carrying on it a tangle of voices, whispering indistinctly in his ears. Lily seemed to hear something clearer, however, because her eyes grew wide and she squeezed his hand so hard he thought she might break something. "Mum? Aunt Jenny? Uncle Cadmus?" The candles flickered and flared, but they didn't go out. "I – I guess I just wanted to say that, well… I miss you… Yeah, I wish you hadn't gotten caught in that attack… I know these things happen… no, Auntie, I'm not sad… Yes, ma'am. I just miss how things used to be, that's all… I know. I understand… Mum, I wish I'd got to know you. Aunt Mary and Aunt Jenny have told me stories, but it's not the same… Th-thank you, but it's okay. I know why it had to be that way... I love you, too. All of you. Thank you for visiting me! Thank you! ...Next year, I promise… I'll be at Hogwarts, yes, Uncle. I'll see you then… Good-bye!"

The voices faded away and Lily, clearly exhausted, slumped against him. He was tired, too, but he didn't think he had put as much into the ritual as she had, what with actually casting the circle and lighting the candles. He held her close, resting his cheek against the top of her head. "What did they say?"

"Couldn't you hear?"

"No, only that they were speaking, not the words."

"Mostly that they love me, and they miss me, too. Aunt Jenny says to try not to be so sad, and Mum said she was sorry she wasn't there for me. Uncle said they expect to see me at the Hogwarts ritual next year." She sighed. "I miss them so much. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if they hadn't've died. If mum was alive, I know I'd've never lived with Aunt Jenny, and if they were alive, I wouldn't have met you, and I wouldn't _change_ it, but… I still wonder, you know?"

Severus hummed his agreement. Most of his musings went the other way, like what would have happened if his father had died when he was a baby – would the Princes have taken his mother back, and him as well? But he understood the general principle. "So what happens now?" he asked, checking her bandaged hand.

Lily yawned. "We wait until the candles go out, and then I guess try to sneak back home without getting caught. M'tired. I didn't think I'd be this tired."

Light laughter filtered through the circle. Severus' head whipped around to see a young lady, dressed in black robes, sitting on a nearby grave marker. She had light hair and fair skin, so pale she was almost glowing in the darkness. No, wait – not _almost_.

"Who are you?" he asked, too startled for politeness, as Lily shifted around as well.

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "They call me Kore. Manea. Nungal. Irkalla. Death by many other names." The children scrambled to their feet, even as she said, "Don't get up."

"My Lady Persephone," Lily said, bowing low. (Severus mimicked her.) "To what do we owe the honor of your presence?"

The goddess hummed. "Curiosity, mostly. A good first ritual," she added, meandering closer, her progress unimpeded by the circle Lily had drawn. She reached down (Severus suddenly realized that she was _very_ tall – inhumanly so) and tilted Lily's chin back to meet her gaze. "Interesting."

"What's interesting?" Lily dared ask.

Death smirked. "You have your father's confidence, along with his eyes. And your mother's stubbornness and temperament. Your future cannot help but be interesting, I think." Severus trembled as she reached for him as well, turning his face to hers. It was surprisingly… ordinary. "Oh!" she exclaimed delightedly. "This is too perfect. Both of you full of so many delightful contradictions, and such potential. All shifting smoke and twisted mirrors, so different, and yet complimentary... Clotho did well when she wound your threads together."

Perhaps she sensed the fear in him, or else it was simply time for her to go, for she smiled again, and moved to the still-lit candles, snuffing them out with quick pinches.

"Go home, my children. Your ritual is done. I give you my blessing, _Aitoúnta,_ _Dierminéas_. Go with grace."

"Thank you, my Lady," Severus said, but the Power was already gone. Lily echoed him half a second later, anyway.

"I… wow."

"Yeah. I don't even know where to start," Lily admitted.

"Clean up?"

"Well, yeah, but _after_ that."

"Let's just take it one step at a time."

They ended up sitting on the swings, eating the leftover bread and sipping at the half-bottle of wine around the cork fragments, talking until the sun came up. Severus learned more about Lily in those few dark hours than he had in the entire year before, he was sure, listening to her talk of her dead and her family.

He finally heard the story behind her father: he had long-since known that her mother had been an Auror, but her father was some no-good scoundrel called Tom Riddle, who had knocked her mother up and then run. There was no trace of him in Magical Britain, and she was positive she was better off without him, anyway, though she didn't know anything about him, besides the fact that he had abandoned her pregnant mother.

He finally discovered why she was Evans, and not Harrison: her mother had been investigating the Knights of Walpurgis, and she, Lily, had been threatened because of it, so Matilde and Mary and Jenny had changed her name for her own safety.

He learned the whole sad story of Matilde's death: she had been cursed into a coma when Lily was just a baby, and died only a year or two before the Carmichaels. The Evanses hadn't even gone to the funeral.

In exchange, he told her, haltingly, about his own family, about his mother's exile from the House of Prince – how she had run from an arranged marriage, only to find herself lost and helpless on the muggle streets, her magic deserting her when she needed it the most. She was desperate, and destitute, and had taken up with Tobias Snape out of a desire for security. She had fallen pregnant almost at once. Tobias hadn't found out about magic until after Severus was born, and to say he hadn't taken the news well was… just a bit of an understatement. He told her about his dreams of running away, of Hogwarts, of just _going_ and never coming back to this little shithole, dying town on the banks of the River Trent.

"I'm going to make a name for myself," he said fiercely. "I'm going to make the Princes regret not recognizing me as one of them. I'm going to be _someone_ , no thanks to them."

She hopped up at that, swaying a little with the alcohol they had drunk, and, steadying herself with the chains of his own swing, leaned down to look him in the eye. "Can I come with you?" she asked.

As though he would say no? _Honestly_ … He nodded. "'Course. We'll run away together."

She grinned. "We'll _be someone_ together," she promised. "It'll be an adventure." And then, miracle of miracles, she leaned down a few inches more, and pressed her lips to his. Later, many years later, he would realize that it was the most chaste, most innocent of childish kisses, but at that moment, he nearly fell to the ground in shock.

She laughed at his surprise, the joyous sound lighting up the night even more than the first hints of dawn, creeping over the horizon, and he thought, for the first time, _I think I love her_.


	6. Cut Scenes - Lily's POV

**Lily – December, 1968**

Irene Carmichael– or Lily Evans, or any combination thereof – sat, glowering, on the swings at the park, two streets down from her Aunt Mary's house. Right now, Uncle Cadmus' Grandmother Primrose, the Materfamilias of House Carmichael, would be telling Aunt Mary about The Attack. Aunt Jenny and Uncle Cadmus had been in the wrong place at the wrong time a month before, on Samhain. They had got caught up in one of those raids that had been happening more and more, on their way back from some Ministry party or other, leaving eight-year-old Irene orphaned for the second time in her short life.

Geoff, now eleven, and Nico, who had just turned eight as well, would be staying with one of the Carmichaels – probably Uncle Magnus. But she, Irene, had to go live with her muggle relatives instead. Grandmother Primrose had been nice enough about it when she explained – it wasn't that the Carmichaels didn't want to keep her, but Aunt Mary was her godmother just like Aunt Jenny, and had the best claim on her, even though she was a muggle, and Irene was a witch. Which she supposed meant that she had better get used to being called Lily, instead of Irene, because for some reason, Aunt Mary had always called her Lily, even though Aunt Jenny said that her mother had called her Irene.

Call on the Dark, there it was: Aunt Mary shouting, "Lily!" from the front porch, demanding that she return to the house – home, now, she supposed. She didn't much feel like putting up with Aunt Mary being all supportive and _are you all right?_

But she didn't exactly have much choice.

As soon as she walked through the door, Petunia enveloped her in a hug, before passing her over to Aunt Mary and Uncle Fred. The twins, Matt and Violet, hung back from the crowd. Irene didn't blame them. They were shy, and everyone was being _awfully_ emotional.

She had loved Aunt Jenny and Uncle Cadmus, too, but she wasn't _sad_ , she was _angry_.

The thrice-cursed Death Eaters had taken her family from her _twice_ , and no amount of crying was going to bring them back.

Unfortunately, the grown-ups hadn't liked it when she told them that. They had exchanged worried looks, and quickly changed the subject. Geoff had been at Hogwarts, and had only been allowed to come home for the funeral itself; if he had been there, she suspected that the adults would have foisted her off onto him, but as it was, she was largely ignored in the weeks after The Attack, while everyone focused on Nico. He was six months younger than Irene, very much the baby of the family, and clearly missing his parents far more than she was. She figured that was because as much as she had always been accepted and welcomed into the Carmichael family, she knew they weren't really _her_ parents.

She had never doubted that they loved her, but she knew that Geoff was Uncle Cadmus' favorite, and Nico was Aunt Jenny's. She, on the other hand, was their responsible, grown-up little girl: the less-favored fosterling and the middle child to boot. There was a reason she called Aunt Jenny _Aunt_ instead of _Mum._

Her _real_ mum had been an Auror, driven mad by the Death Eaters before Irene could even remember her. She lay in a bed at St. Mungo's for years, her mind gone, before she had finally died.

It was for her as much as for Aunt Jenny and Uncle Cadmus that Irene had secretly vowed that she would, someday, destroy the Death Eaters. She had also sworn vengeance, as soon as she was old enough to understand, on the man who had knocked up her mother, and then left her, pregnant and alone in the world. Tom Riddle, his name was, though according to Aunt Jenny, he seemed to have completely disappeared from Magical Britain about thirteen years before she was born.

Both tasks seemed equally impossible, given that the government couldn't seem to do a thing about the Death Eaters, and Aunt Jenny had thrown all the resources of House Carmichael at the latter problem, but Irene didn't care if it took her entire life – when she was grown up, she _would_ find a way to make them pay for their crimes against her and her family.

In the meanwhile, though, she was at the mercy of adults who didn't care what she wanted or how she felt. They just wanted to put her in a convenient box of 'sad child' and leave her there forever. Maybe they thought it was easier to deal with sad than angry. Irene didn't know. All she knew was that she was _so_ tired of mourning – everything would just be so much easier if everyone would just accept that this was the way things were, now, and move on.

If she had to sit through one more round of hugs and _you poor thing_ and whispers where the adults thought she couldn't hear about how she must be _in shock, the dear girl_ , she might scream.

Fortunately, after Grandmother Primrose finally departed, leaving Irene's un-shrunken belongings stacked neatly in the room she was to share with Petunia (at least until Uncle Fred had time to build a little partition for them and turn the little bedroom into two _tiny_ bedrooms – the Evans' house really was too small for six people), she quickly shook off her family's clinging embraces. Was it too much to ask to just… be alone, for a little while?

**Lily – July, 1969**

It hadn't taken long at all for Lily to realize that Severus' (Sev's – Severus was just too dratted long) home life was… less than ideal. His father was a mean drunk, and his mother, well… she didn't know what was wrong with that witch, not defending her son from his father. They had become the best of friends practically overnight with their shared, secret magic, and spending nearly every waking moment together, it was impossible for him to hide the bruises, or his grumbling stomach when all the money had been spent on alcohol instead of bread. He still wouldn't admit it, but it wasn't much of a surprise to her when they were wandering the streets, late, after her birthday party, and he declared that he didn't want to go home.

"Won't your mum be worried?" she asked, biting her lip and twirling her hair too-innocently. She knew his mum wouldn't be worried, but that was the sort of thing you said when you were pretending you didn't know about something awful going on right under your nose, wasn't it?

"She doesn't care what I do when she's drinking," Severus said quietly. "She doesn't care what _he_ does to me."

Lily stumbled over her feet, utterly shocked that he had finally said something, even in passing. Normally they didn't talk about his parents like they didn't talk about her parents. She pulled him close under a streetlight and looked him in the eye. "Stay at my house tonight, Sev."

"I can't. Your parents wouldn't let me stay."

"Who says we're gonna tell them?"

"Lilyyyyy, you're making this hard!"

"It's my birthday, Sev! Come stay with me."

"I shouldn't," the boy said, but there was something like hope in his eyes.

"You already said _your_ parents wouldn't care. Come on, it will be fun!"

She grabbed him by the wrist and towed him back the way they had come, giving herself over to the joy of misbehaving and laughing wildly.

Severus had a small smile on his face.

Petunia was a problem, but not an insurmountable one. She gaped silently as Lily opened the window of their still-shared bedroom to let Sev crawl inside. Who would get the window was an ongoing debate, and part of the reason they still had yet to see any progress on the partition which was, in all honesty, probably never going to be built. It was looking far more likely that the twins' room would be separated, and Petunia would take one half and Violet would move in with Lily – or else Uncle Fred would put it off until Lily went to Hogwarts, and then Vi would move in with Petunia, and Lily would crash with Matt in the summers.

"Are you insane? What is _he_ doing here?" the older girl whispered incredulously.

"He's staying with me," Lily whispered back, fiercely.

"No, he's not! He can't! Lily!"

"If you tell on us, I'll tell Aunt Mary you and Sue Willis are sneaking off to smoke fags and kiss boys when you say you're at the library."

"That's not _true_ ," Petunia blustered.

"Oh yes it is!" the birthday girl grinned sharply. " _And_ I know about the way you've been getting your hands on those fags, too, and the makeup, _and_ the new blouse you said Suzie's older sister gave you."

The teenager blanched. "You _wouldn't_."

"Not if you don't say anything…"

" _Fine_ ," Petunia grumbled. "You little –"

"Favorite cousin of yours? Aww, Tuney, you're so _sweet_." She shot a smirk at Sev, who gave her a hesitant smile in return. "Here," she rifled through her drawers, looking for something that he could use as pajamas that wasn't too girly. "You can change in the bathroom. I'll keep watch and make sure the coast is clear."

" _Lily_!" Petunia whispered sharply. "How long is he staying?!"

Lily just shrugged. As long as she could manage it, probably. It wasn't like he really had anywhere else to go.

…

Her cousin said nothing when she saw the bruises and scars on Sev's arms and legs, but she also didn't complain about his presence in their room for the two and a half weeks it took for them to slip up and get caught sneaking Sev in and out of the shower.

**Lily – August, 1971**

"Hurry up, Brat!" Petunia shouted from the living room.

"I'm coming!" There were just a few more things to shove into her trunk.

"Hey, Firestarter!"

"Geoff?!" Lily slammed the lid closed, and then, when it didn't click shut, jumped on it, smashing her clothes and books down before running out of the room. "Come help me with my trunk!" she demanded, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He had gotten tall since the last time she had seen him.

"You're making that slightly impossible, Lily," Severus drawled, so she launched herself at him, instead, laughing.

"I'm _so excited_! Aren't you excited, Sev?"

"I'd be more excited if you weren't _holding us up_. Come _on_! We're going to be _late_."

At that, it was Geoff's turn to laugh. He had gone and brought back her trunk without her even noticing. "No, we won't, Snape. Don't worry so much."

Petunia was fawning over Geoff. She had just been marveling at his strength, carrying the trunk all by himself, and now she said, "How are you getting to King's Cross? Are you _driving_? Lily, you didn't tell me Geoff had a _car_."

Lily snorted. There was no way she thought he was eighteen. Sixteen and a heavy dose of flattery, _maybe_. "He doesn't – we're taking a bus. And he's not even fifteen yet."

Geoff glared at her – he had obviously been enjoying her cousin's attentions, though she couldn't fathom _why_. Petunia wilted slightly at the knowledge that the strapping Geoff was not the older man she had thought, but really younger than herself. After a few seconds, though, she recovered well enough to say, "I… wouldn't have guessed that," which cheered him up a bit.

He put on his best Carmichael manners to say: "I am honored that so lovely a young lady as yourself would consider me worthy of her interest."

Petunia blushed. _Blushed_. "Enough!" Lily shouted. "Stop flirting! Sev's right, we need to go."

"What about your aunt and uncle, and… aren't there little cousins, too?" Geoff asked.

Lily couldn't tell if he was delaying to tease her, or to have more time to make eyes at Pet, but either explanation was _unacceptable._ "Uncle Fred's at work, and Aunt Mary had to take the kids to the doctor. We said goodbye last night. Now _come on_."

Geoff shot Petunia a rueful grin. "I shall just have to write you, if you wish to continue this conversation at a later date."

Petunia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, alright – and you can explain why that school of yours lives in the bloody dark ages, while you're at it."

"Of course, milady," Geoff bowed in ascent, which made Petunia blush again. "I shall do my utmost."

Severus' shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. Lily glared at him. It wasn't _that_ funny.

But then he added with classic, dry Snape humor, "Think of it this way, Petunia: receiving letters from a mysterious boy at a school trapped in the dark ages is _very_ romantic," which _was_ that funny.

Especially when Petunia went completely red and ordered them out of the house. "Go! Get out, you bleedin' tosspot. I don't want to see neither one of you brats again until Christmas!"

Severus gave her a mocking salute before offering Lily his arm. "Shall we?"

"Let's!" she declared, then glared at Geoff, " _Finally_!" and waved at her cousin. "Bye, Tuney. Enjoy having Vi for a roommate. I would write, but I guess Geoff will do that for me."

He laughed, offering his own farewell, and followed the first-years out to the kerb, where Severus' battered trunk and Geoff's much nicer one were already waiting. "What the hell did you put in here, Firestarter? Bricks?" he groaned, setting Lily's down beside them.

" _Books_ ," she corrected him. She had bought all of her books second-hand to make her meagre savings go further, and she and Sev had spent _hours_ choosing the most interesting introductory texts and history books they could find while his mum lurked in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron with a bottle of firewhisky.

The older boy rolled his eyes, and Severus said, "You'd think a Ravenclaw would be more understanding…"

Geoff laughed, raising a hand to summon the Knight Bus. "First rule of Ravenclaw: always question everything. There's more to knowledge and wisdom than just _reading_."

The bus appeared with a _bang_ , and the three students trooped on-board, Geoff and the conductor handling the trunks.

"Geoff's one of the _artistic_ Ravenclaws," Lily informed Sev. "He writes music. Piano, mostly. He's very good."

"I thought you hadn't seen him since the Yule before last. He said that's why his guardians agreed to let him pick you up."

"I haven't, but I doubt he's gotten _worse_ since then."

"Alright, Irene? Snape?" Geoff asked, plonking himself down beside them as the bus set off with another bang. They nodded, and the Ravenclaw gave them a positively cunning look. "So tell me more about Miss Petunia Evans – your letters have been entirely lacking on that front, Miss Firestarter…"

…

Geoff abandoned the two firsties for his own friends once he had them safely ensconced in a compartment. It was only a matter of minutes before they were joined by a messy-haired boy who called himself Jamie Potter and introduced himself like a pureblood.

As they had agreed months before, after a very serious discussion with Grandmother Primrose, Lily introduced herself only as Evans, rather than Evans-Carmichael. That was the way her Hogwarts letter had arrived, and the way she would be addressed in school. The people who killed her mother were still at large, and, apparently, growing only more powerful. The more distance she could put between the name Harrison and herself, the better, and there were people who knew that Matilde Harrison had been close to the Carmichaels. It would be best if Lily was known as a muggleborn, or a muggle-raised half-blood, with an absentee wizard father. That, Lily had laughed harshly, was almost the truth, anyway.

So, if push came to shove, she was ready to claim her father as magical, despite her unwavering hatred for him (seeing as he was good for absolutely nothing else), but she had to pretend that her mother was no one, and Severus had to do the same. According to the story they were telling, Severus had taught her everything she knew about the magical world. He introduced himself with, Lily was amused to see, an equal degree of snootiness that appeared to go right over James Potter's head.

"Pleased to meet you!" James said, brushing a kiss over the back of Lily's hand. "I have to go rescue my cousin. I'll be back!"

He returned a few minutes later towing a rather uncomfortable-looking boy with wavy black hair and silvery eyes, and herding several other people along as well. They were chattering loudly, clearly already friends. They occupied the carriage at once, a quiet boy with light brown hair sitting next to Lily as James introduced the others.

"Severus, Lily, hope you don't mind the crowd. This is my cousin Sirius, and this is Tory Loupeau, and Alice Diggory, and Marley McKinnon and what did you say your name was, again? Lupin…"

"Remus Lupin," the boy said softly.

Lily switched seats with him so that she could get to know Marley and Alice better. James began trying to tease an obviously withdrawn Sirius into conversation, though Sirius wasn't having it. Severus sat quietly in the corner, watching the action, as he was wont to do. Lily could feel his eyes on her, and flashed him a grin.

"What House do you think you'll go to?" Tory asked Remus as the train left the station.

"Oh, I dunno," he said shyly. "Maybe Ravenclaw. I like reading."

"Me too!" Lily exclaimed. "Maybe we'll be there together." She was _hoping_ for Ravenclaw, really, because she thought she might be best-suited to Slytherin, and she didn't fancy being a muggleborn, or even a muggle-raised half-blood in that House, if half of Geoff's stories were true.

"Books are boring!" James declared. "Gryffindor's the best! The house of the brave and adventurous! What about you, Alice, Marley?"

Alice looked thoughtful for a moment before she declared, "Marley's going to be a Gryffindor. No other house would have her. And I will be a Hufflepuff, because friends are more important than adventures."

"Hey!" said Marley, but then grinned, "Yeah, Gryffindor. If friends are so important, Allie, you should come into Gryffindor too!" Alice grinned and shook her head.

"What about you, Severus?" James asked.

"Slytherin," Severus said simply.

James made a face. "Why would you want to be a slimy snake? I'd rather be a Hufflepuff than a Slytherin. Um, sorry, mate," he said to Sirius, who was elbowing him in the side.

"I wasn't aware we were given a choice," Severus said.

"Well we're not, but if you're not a sneaky, lying git, why would you go to Slytherin?"

"Tradition," Sirius suggested morosely.

"They can't make you go if you don't belong there, Siri."

"All the Blacks have been in Slytherin, Jamie! Your mum was in Slytherin."

James collapsed dramatically to the floor, miming as though Sirius had stabbed him through the heart. "You wound me, cousin!" he sat up. "Keep talking like that and you will be a Snake, and then where will I be? Alone in my tower, befit and friendless…"

" _Bereft_ ," Lily heard Tory correct him quietly. She hid a grin.

"Besides," James continued, "I always get what I want, and I want my favorite cousin with me in Gryffindor!"

Severus and Lupin rolled their eyes, but the girls giggled, insults about Slytherin and Hufflepuff apparently forgotten. Lily joined them after half a second, already having decided that, at least until she figured out what houses they were all in, Alice and Marley would be her new models for appropriate behavior at Hogwarts.

…

Eight hours and one boat-ride later, the eight first-years from Lily's compartment joined at least forty or fifty others, forming a straggling line before the Professors' table. The Great Hall was just as fantastic as Lily had heard, with its enchanted ceiling and the floating candles. What made it really impressive, though, was the hundreds of students at their four long tables.

Lily tried to pay attention to all of them, but the only ones that really caught in her memory before her own Sorting were Sirius Black, who looked just as terrified after he was sorted into Gryffindor as before, and Alice Diggory, who did, indeed, go to Hufflepuff, as she had predicted.

"Evans, Lily!"

She tried not to skip too eagerly to the Hat, but she wasn't sure she managed it. The old leather and cloth dropped down over her eyes, shutting out the world, and a quiet voice whispered, as though inside her mind, "Evans, Lily, eh? Yes, inside your mind indeed. What have we here? Let's see, let's see…"

 _I'd like to go to Ravenclaw, if it's all the same to you,_ she thought firmly.

"Ah," the Hat said, sounding faintly amused, "but it's _not_ all the same. I see you think you belong in Slytherin, with your friend, but not _because_ of him. I do see potential for cunning and ruthlessness… yes, you would do well there."

 _Oh, please don't,_ she begged silently. _I'm pretending to be muggleborn! That would be a nightmare! Ravenclaw would be much better. I'm smart, I like books – I could be a Ravenclaw!_

"Ah, intelligent, yes, but you don't love learning for its own sake – you want to _do_ something with your knowledge. Art for Art's Sake is not for you, my dear. I do see courage here, and a certain secret vow…?"

Lily felt herself flush. It was true that she had decided, long ago, that she would one day avenge her mother's death – her torture. She didn't know how, but she would find a way. She already had a starting point, as daunting as it was: the Knights of Walpurgis – that shadowy and dangerous organization, whispered about in hushed voices only when adults thought there were no children about. If they were still around by the time she graduated, she knew she would be an Auror, like her mother, hunting them down.

"That, along with your courage and daring, would see you well in Gryffindor," the Hat pointed out.

_No! I can't be a Gryffindor! It's got to be Ravenclaw! Sev's bound to be a Slytherin, you see, and –_

"Let me ask you this: would you rather be more like your mother, or more like your father?"

 _Mother, of course_ , she thought, before the Hat even finished speaking.

"I applaud your answer. Not that I'm judging, you understand, but the world truly does _not_ need another Tom Riddle, and it would be all too easy for you to follow his path in Ravenclaw, especially with this vendetta on your shoulders. So then, all preferences aside, I believe it must be _GRYFFINDOR_ for you."

_But – Sev!_

"Take heart, my dear," the Hat said kindly, as it was plucked off her head. "I trust you will find the courage to overcome the barriers of different Houses."

 _Thrice-damned, poxy bit of old cloth_ , she thought mutinously as she made her way to her fellow new Gryffindors, sending an apologetic look back at Severus as she went.

"'sa matter?" Sirius Black muttered as she took her seat between him and a blonde firstie. "Lose a fight with the Hat?"

She glared fiercely at him. "Just because you won yours doesn't mean you get to be smug."

He smirked, apparently recovering from his own Sorting. "On the contrary – I think that's the _best_ reason to be smug."

"Oh, shut up." She kicked him under the table, and then, while he was still shocked by her unladylike behavior, turned to the girl. "Lily Evans. I didn't catch your name."

"Ellie Adams," she whispered back. A stern looking woman in green robes glared at them, and they subsided in time to clap as 'Gudgeon, David,' joined their table.

Remus Lupin, Marlene McKinnon, and James Potter all ended up at Gryffindor as well. Remus looked almost as surprised as Lily was, but much less upset.

It took forever to reach Severus' name, and he sat under the hat for what seemed like ages, probably arguing, as she had done, to be put in Ravenclaw. They hadn't predicted a world in which she would be a Gryffindor, but everyone knew that Snakes and Lions didn't get along. It would be easier to stay friends if they weren't in directly opposite houses. But he must have lost his argument with the Hat as well, because after several minutes the Hat yelled, "SLYTHERIN!"

Lily clapped as hard as she could for him, wanting him to know that she was still his friend, but he looked like a doomed man, heading toward the green and silver table.


End file.
